


The Trine

by Endstorm



Series: Bumblebee and the Mecharachnids [1]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Choking, Come Swallowing, Dubcon Kissing, Dubious Consent, Egg Inflation, Exhaustion, Face-Fucking, Fuck Or Die, Held Down, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Multi, Mutual Masturbation, Oral Sex, Oviposition, Sex Pollen, Size Kink, Teasing, bukake
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:27:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27692107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Endstorm/pseuds/Endstorm
Summary: Bumblebee has been caught in bad positions before - but here, stuffed full of eggs and overheating from the mecharachnid's venom, is the last place he'd ever want to see the Command Trine.They're more than happy to help with his predicament, of course...
Relationships: Bumblebee/Skywarp/Starscream/Thundercracker (Transformers), Skywarp/Starscream/Thundercracker (Transformers)
Series: Bumblebee and the Mecharachnids [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2025118
Comments: 3
Kudos: 74





	The Trine

**Author's Note:**

> This is eventually gonna have a prequel/first section that is Bumblebee getting caught by mecharachnids, filled with Horny Venom, bloated with eggs, and then left desperate and hanging until he overheated and passed out. For the moment, though, all you need to know is that Bumblebee has been caught by mecharachnids, filled with Horny Venom, bloated with eggs, and then left desperate and hanging until he overheated and passed out.

A cool hand brushing his cheek is what finally drags Bumblebee’s focus back to the waking world.

He needs - he _needs_ , desperately. His frame aches. His valve aches, sore and swollen and tender. His gestation tanks ache, helpless against the stretch of the eggs stuffing him -

He pushes into the touch, the hand soothing against the overheated flush of his plating, and sobs. 

Another hand roams downward - claws tearing through the web entrapping him, fingers probing his tender stomach. The touches are gentle, almost teasing, and he can’t hold back a whine when they pull away - 

He groans when he’s pulled into a careful, playful kiss. A glossa invades his mouth, brushes teasingly across his dentae - it’s big, much bigger than his, but smooth and pliant when he moans into the other mech’s mouth. He whimpers when the other mech moves to pull away, and is rewarded with a teasing little nip at his lower lip - and then the mech is gone, leaving him to hang there, vents heaving, wondering if he had ever been there at all.

Then the hands are back - more of them, more than he can keep track of, touching him all over, supporting him as the last of the webs are cleared away. One brushes curiously across his valve, and he rolls his hips in desperation, whines again - he _needs_

There’s a warm, rolling laugh as the hand is pulled away.

He can’t keep track of what they’re doing - the world is a rolling blur around him, he’s overheated, can’t focus his optics. They carry him, he thinks - his gestation tank agony as it rolls and jostles - and then they stop. He’s upright, maybe. He thinks he is.

The hand brushes across his spike, squeezes lightly, and the world goes white as he overloads.

It takes him a long time to recover. He can feel them moving around him - clearing webbing from his vents, maybe - and then there’s something that burns like ice as it’s poured into him - it takes a moment to realize that they’re refilling his coolant reservoirs, that he’s finally wicking away the worst of the heat. 

He offlines his optics, content to lie there, knowing nothing but the gentle touches and the slowly-building need as his frame, for the dozenth time, resets itself and begins to rebuild charge.

It takes a long time for the last of the warnings on his hud to drop away, and his processors to settle to the point where curiosity can, again, take hold. By then, the heat in his valve is, once again, an inferno - he rolls his hips helplessly, and a voice chuckles behind him.

It takes a moment for his optics to reset - a moment longer to register the faces peering down at him properly, but when he does, his need is matched by a curl of humiliated terror as he recognizes the cruel grin on Starscream’s lips.

“Ahn -” He tries to say - something, anything really, that will make up for the fact that he’s helpless with lust, grinding his valve against a cool expanse of purple metal that finally makes sense as one of Skywarp’s thighs. He doesn’t manage to form the words, though, as fingers slip under his spike to pinch at his over-sensitized nodes and the words are lost to a ragged cry.

Fingers press against his lips, and, still-dazed, he presses into them as Starscream laughs again. “He really is ruined, isn’t he? A _very_ nice find, Skywarp.” He leans in, close enough that Bumblebee can feel the cool breeze of his vents across his hot plating. “The only question is, does he want to play with _us_? Or should we leave him here for his little friends to find?”

“They’re about a cycle out.” Thundercracker’s voice is a warm rumble, and Bumblebee has to strain to focus on the words, rather than the coil of arousal that it makes well in him. “Maybe a couple joors more. You won’t die before they get here, little Autobot - not with a tank full of fresh coolant.” 

Bumblebee can’t think - he grinds into the thigh under him, and Thundercracker laughs. “Give him another overload, Skywarp. Let him clear his helm.”

It doesn’t take much - Skywarp’s hands wrap around his hips, each one almost large enough to encompass one of his thighs alone. They press him down as the leg beneath him jogs, lightly, letting him grind and twist against the warming metal, and Bumblebee can only gasp and moan as he’s worked effortlessly towards another overload.

This one doesn’t ruin him as badly - he almost collapses, but one of Skywarp’s hands slips up to catch him under a shoulder, supporting him. The mech’s thumb rubs gently across his back, giving hims something to focus on as he sags into the hold, processor only slowly clearing.

“There we go.” He manages to look up, to meet Starscream’s hungry red optics, when the other mech speaks again. “Needy little thing. Well, Autobot?”

He looks expectant, and Bumblebee has to search his processor for - whatever he’s been asked, he doesn’t know -

Thundercracker takes pity on him, lips curling in amusement. “Do you want us to leave you for your friends, beautiful? Or will you be our little slut until they find us? We won’t hurt you -”

Starscream laughs at that. “Much.”

It’s - he should say no, he can’t make them leave, but he can at least say no, make them - make them _make him_ \- they’ll do whatever they want, regardless, there’s no way for him to fight -

But they might actually leave him, and the thought of - of being alone again, unable to do anything as the heat builds inside him -

“Please -” he whimpers, and Starscream laughs again.

Skywarp lets his knee bounce, again, and laughs when Bumblebee moans. “Desperate again so quickly?” He lets his fingers brush across Bumblebee’s chest, collecting, he realizes a moment later, some of the transfluid spattered there - and then his fingers slip lower. Bumblebee whimpers as the hand, slick with his own fluids, teases across his valve.

“Primus, he’s eager.” Skywarp chuckles in his audial, the other hand rubbing soothing circles across his stomach that make Bumblebee sob weakly at the pressure. It’s too much - everything is too much, but Skywarp is too big for him to do anything but squirm in his arms… “Poor little Autobot.”

“Please -” He gives a ragged moan that turns into a wail when Skywarp pinches his node. His hips buck wildly, but the seeker doesn’t let go, and all Bumblebee can do is ride his hand fruitlessly as the other Thundercracker and Starscream watch with amused, glittering optics.

Overload slams into him like a wall, and Bumblebee arcs back, helplessly, with a yell, whole frame alright with pleasure that burns like _fire_. His vision goes white with it, for a klik - then dim as his whole frame collapses with exhaustion, leaving Skywarp’s hands the only thing keeping him up.

The seeker laughs again, leaning back so that Bumblebee can sprawl across his chest, legs splayed wantonly. He rubs another circle on his stomach, and Bumblebee moans as the eggs seem to shift inside him - he’s so full, it _aches_ so much - 

That’s forgotten when the pressure lifts, and Skywarp’s hand wraps, instead, around his spike.

“Such a hungry little thing.” Starscream chuckles above him. “So _depraved._ Did you get caught, little Bee, or did you go looking for a spyder to stuff your greedy little valve?”

Bumblebee tries to moan a protest, but he can’t - Skywarps hand teases his spike, slick and cool and _tight_ , and he tries to resist, but he can’t keep from thrusting, weak but desperate, into the touch. Skywarp pinches his node again - sharper, this time, less of a teasing touch than a little stinging pain, and he gapes, helplessly, helm falling back, mouth open to pant for cool air - 

Thundercracker chuckles. “Oh, you’re a pretty one, though.” He leans down, two fingers pressing into Bumblebee’s mouth, stretching his cheeks, spreading his jaw. He reaches down with his other hand and hooks in another two fingers, spreading his mouth wide - ignoring the minibot’s muffled groan of protest entirely. Finally, he seems satisfied - two of the fingers vanish, the other two remaining to stroke soothingly over Bumblebee’s glossa as Skywarp coaxes him towards another overload -

The purple Seeker’s hand cups his spike as he arches with another soft cry, Bumblebee’s transfluid spattering his hand. Thundercracker draws back as it does, and Bumblebee has a brief moment of dazed pleasure before the hand cups his mouth, his own transfluid drizzling between his lips -

“Lick it clean,” Strascream instructs him with a leer. “Or we won’t touch you at _all._ ”

The memory of - of the heat, and the exhaustion, and the _pain_ of hanging, alone, in the spyder’s webs is enough to motivate him - Bumblebee whimpers, but lets his glossa swipe along Skywarps hand, the salty taste of his own fluids filling his senses. His spike is aching, again, by the time he has it clean enough to satisfy the Seekers, and the look in Starscream’s optics is triumphant.

“Please,” he whispers, hips grinding helplessly against Skywarp’s hand on his valve.

“Should I -” Skywarp starts, going silent as Starscream glances at him and the conversation drops to the trinebond. His fingers press against the plug experimentally, earning him a gasp of discomfort at the pressure, and Starscream smirks.

“Oh, we’re not _that_ generous, ‘warp.” He chuckles unkindly, hand coming up to brush Bumblebee’s cheek. “We’ll play with you, Autobot, but you can stay stuffed and desperate until your teammates find you. After all, they deserve _some_ of the fun…”

Bumblebee sobs again, face flushing at the thought, and Starscream laughs.

“Let’s make sure they know who helped him, shall we, ‘cracker?” he offers with a smirk. “I know how you love messing up your toys…”

“Shame his mouth is so small,” agrees the blue seeker. “I’d love to stuff him…”

“Mm… he’d look beautiful, choking on your spike. But I’m sure we can think of something else…”

Bumblebee whimpers as they talk, ignoring him - the heat in his belly is too much, he needs -

Skywarp’s hand wraps around his spike, and he bucks a little in relief. “Ah ah,” the seeker orders, softly, using the weight of his hand to force Bumblebee’s hips down. “You get to take what I give you, Autobot. Leave that pretty little mouth of yours open.”

Bumblebee obeys, moaning with relief when the hand begins to gently rub his spike. He can feel it, the way the transfluid smears across the metal, but the contact is enough to ease the worst of the ache -

He finally manages to refocus his optics, and look up.

Above him, the two seekers are standing, faces keen with amusement as they stare down at him, spikes in hand. Thundercracker is sweeping his in slow, languid strokes - Starscream’s are more rough, his optics dim with pleasure as he watches Bumblebee’s face. Skywarp must feel the flicker in his field at the sight - he gives an amused little laugh.

“You’re gonna look so pretty, little mech.” The hand teasing Bumblebee’s valve vanishes - reappearing, a moment later, to squeeze lightly at his jaw, forcing his mouth to remain open. Starscream chuckles again, at that. 

“Going to leave you _filthy_ , you slutty little thing.”

He glances up at Thundercracker for just a moment, communicating wordlessly - then angles his spike downward, twisting lightly with his wrist, and -

The first burst of transfluid floods Bumblebee’s mouth with careful precision. He almost chokes on it - it’s everywhere, the scent, the taste of it, all at once - too much for his mouth, so it spills across his lips, across his face as he tries to twist away, but Skywarp’s hand holds him until the last spurt splatters across his plating. Starscream’s optics glint like dark garnets as he lets his hand drop with a vent.

“Make him swallow it, ‘warp. I want him to _taste me._ ”

The hand holding Bumblebee’s jaw slides to cup his mouth again - he struggles weakly, but there’s no way to twist away, nothing he can do to spit out the transfluid. Skywarp’s other hand squeezes his spike in a rough warning, and Bumblebee cries out, garbled by the fluid - but at last, there’s nothing he can do but swallow, obedient and defeated. 

Skywarp holds him like that for another moment until Bumblebee, hesitant, licks a thick line of transfluid from his palm - then he grins. “Good little Autobot.” He lets go, just long enough to wipe the rest of Starscream’s transfluid across the curve of Bumblebee’s stomach plating, and laughs when he cries out at the pressure. “Thundercracker?”

Bumblebee can do nothing but submit as his mouth is, once again, forced open.

Thundercracker isn’t half as accurate as Starscream - the first spurt of transfluid sprays across Bumblebee’s face, drenching him. There’s more than enough to fill his mouth, though - and to spray across his throat in a wet line.

“Beautiful.” There’s a deep fondness in the way Skywarp says the word as he cups Bumblebee’s mouth again. “You’re so pretty like this, Autobot. You look ruined.”

“Maybe your friends won’t even want you back.” Starscream laughs unkindly. “Maybe we should just keep you - stuffed and eager. We could pass you around - fragtoy for the whole armada. Would you like that, little Autobot?”

Bumblebee moans in protest, and Starscream laughs again. “Swallow, toy, and we’ll let you cum.”

Bumblebee whimpers - the taste of transfluid is everywhere, it’s too much - but he swallows again, and Skywarp strokes his spike fondly.

The overload that hits is almost too much - Bumblebee’s whole frame is tight with need, and he thrashes, too weak to knock Skywarp away. The purple seeker doesn’t relent as he splatters another overload - this time, though, he angles it up, so that Bumblebee’s own fluids splash across his plating in a messy arc, letting out a scream as the continuing stimulation becomes too much, too much, too much -

At last, the hand falls away, and Bumblebee slumps with exhaustion - he’s so tired, too tired to think, but the warmth of arousal is already cruelly building again -

His hips thrust, faintly, helplessly, and Skywarp gives a delighted laugh.

“Oh, you’re _perfect._ ”

Fingers catch his face, pulling it back, nudging his lips open - he’s too worn out to resist. This time, Skywarp doesn’t bother to force it, though - Bumblebee doesn’t bother to move when he’s settled in place with his transfluid-stained lips ready to receive another load.

A hand wraps around his spike - not just _his _spike, this time. It takes him a moment to register what’s happening - then a ridged weight presses against his valve, and he gasps in pleasure as Skywarp thrusts, teasingly, between his thighs, the head of his spike a teasing pressure under Bumblebee’s.__

__Skywarp says something, and Thundercracker laughs - it’s too much, too much pleasure, too much strain, and Bumblebee can’t keep track of them. He looks up, blearily - Starscream and Thundercracker are stroking their spikes again, watching him like hungry predacons, and Skywarp’s spike is slick with transfluid and sliding between his thighs…_ _

__The purple seeker sets a slow pace, hips rolling, hand squeezing rhythmically in time with his thrusts. It’s enough to chase off the worst of the aching need -_ _

__Then his free hand rubs, very gently, across the stretch of Bumblebee’s stomach._ _

__The touch starts light - it’s almost soothing, almost enough to ease away the edge of the burgeoning pressure of being so absolutely full. Bumblebee groans in pleasure - and the weight increases, just a little._ _

__It’s still not enough to be truly uncomfortable, but Bumblebee squirms a bit - and Skywarp rumbles with amused laughter beneath him. He pushes a little more, earning a cry, and Bumblebee struggles weakly, but there’s no getting away from the pressure, no escaping as the eggs shift and bump heavy inside him -_ _

__It takes him a moment to realize _why_ Skywarp is tormenting him - a moment to realize that his squirms are little more than helpless thrusting, rubbing his spike and valve uselessly across the seeker’s length. He wails, but there’s no way to make it stop, nothing he can do but play along as the seeker uses him like a toy, fucking his thighs._ _

__It’s an absolute distraction - Bumblebee doesn’t even notice that Starscream is overloading until the transfluid paints his face. He swallows it obediently - he needs his vents clear to drag cool air in, to wick the heat from his frame - and the seeker laughs, leaning down to thrust two fingers into his throat, scooping a little more transfluid of of his cheeks and into his mouth. Bumblebee licks them clean with hardly a thought, too lost in the torment as Skywarp teases his stomach, the ruined swell of his gestation tanks…_ _

__He doesn’t register _what_ Starscream says._ _

__Thundercracker’s hand cupping his helm, too, barely registers - until the tip of a spike is pressed against his lips. Skywarp squeezes a little more firmly, and he gets the only message that matters - lets them fall open, licks his glossa over the slit as just the head of the spike is pressed inside. It’s much too big for him to manage - all three of the seekers are so much _bigger_ than him - but Thundercracker doesn’t push in very far._ _

__A hand - big and dark - cups his face, stroking his helm soothingly. It teases at his horns, tweaks one almost fondly, and Bumblebee lets himself push into the gentle touch, the comfort. He licks at the helm of the spike, completely dazed, almost keening when the hands stay gentle with him, when they don’t abuse him like Skywarp’s…_ _

__Thundercracker pets him for a klik - more than a klik, maybe, optics rapt as Bumblebee sucks his spike. He says something else, something that sounds fond and teasing, and Skywarp chuckles under him, and Bumblebee lets himself drift, torn between arousal and contentment and pain._ _

__The hand catches at a sensor horn again, cupping his helm more firmly, tweaking the delicate metal, and Thundercracker overloads._ _

__It’s - there’s nothing Bumblebee can do - he’s too weak to struggle, too weak to pull away, held firm by the hand on his helm as Thundercracker’s transfluid floods his mouth. It’s too much - there’s no way he can swallow fast enough - all he can do is relax his throat as it’s overwhelmed and let Thundercracker pump it into him, a limp, useless receptacle for his overload. Skywarp’s hand wraps, lightly, around his throat, and Bumblebee knows, mortified, that he can feel it - feel the way he’s being used -_ _

__It seems to go on forever. At last, though, it ends, and Thundercracker pulls his spike away, letting Bumblebee’s helm fall, limply, to the side. He rubs the sensor horn again, touch still gentle, as he wipes the spike across Bumblebee’s cheek, leaving a last drizzle of transfluid to cool against the thin metal._ _

__Skywarp leans down, just a little, and croons something against Bumblebee’s audial - squeezes, just lightly, at his throat - and Bumblebee cries uselessly in an overload as the world flares white and fades to dark._ _

**Author's Note:**

> Oh gosh I had fun writing this. I love doing mean things to Bumblebee as it turns out... Anyways, the first and third chapters (him getting stuffed and someone unstuffing him) have been giving me problems, but this one... it's PWP enough that I figured I could post it anyways and it'd still be a good time :D Poor Bee - he was already going to have enough to explain without being covered in Seeker transfluid...
> 
> Still, I'm sure I'll get around to letting him comm for rescue sooner or later. In the meantime, let me know what you think - and if you have any thoughts on who the rescue team should be! I have some ideas, but I'm open to thoughts... :D


End file.
